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I sit in the ladies' restroom on a soft, plush chaise lounge in the washing area. It’s the only place I could get to quickly that was private enough to bring myself back to inner calm. My head is all over the place. This is about more than just Jake. It’s everything. Since the morning after my mother left, I’ve held it all in. Her, my lack of ability to stay in control, the aching loneliness of Jake’s absence, and now seeing him, it’s all too much.
Maybe it’s time I faced reality and looked for another job. I was stupid to think I could work here, only floors away from him, acting like we don’t know each other anymore. I just can’t do it.
I can’t handle thinking I might see him whenever I leave this floor. There’s a chance we could run into one another anywhere in this building, and I’ve just proven I can’t deal with it.
Looking around at the contemporary furnishings, I sigh. My heart rate is calmer now, but I know I can’t keep living like this, and I hope to feel better.
How long before I’m an emotional train wreck again because I’ve spotted him across a hall? Or in an elevator? Or even in a meeting? I need to get a grip on myself.
I need to think about what’s best for me rationally and move on with my life.
* * *
I take the elevator down to the lower floors, where there’s a huge staff canteen with a pleasant seating area that is surprisingly private. I need time to think in a calm and quiet place, take a moment to browse the classifieds again, think this through, and think about my future and where I go from here.
I grab a chair and sit by the large glass windows with my English tea and bagel to ponder my next steps now that I am calm. I have no intention of walking away from this table until I plan where I will go next or what I will do. I know one thing for sure, I can’t work here anymore. I was an idiot to come back at all.
I skim the classifieds in the paper someone left on the table, and I circle a couple of jobs, but neither has the lure of the one I’m in now or even compares to being the PA to New York’s richest playboy. They don’t meet the salary I’m used to having either.
God, I need to try harder.
I pull out my cell and scroll through some online job sites. There’s a position for a PA to some European businessman, so I jot it down on my notepad.
Am I really doing this? Have I decided to leave Carrero House?
“Emma?” The chirpy voice draws my attention, and I see Rosalie beaming at me, my old assistant. She looks pretty today, her long auburn hair loose around her shoulders and her fitted cream suit accentuating her olive skin and hazel eyes. She always was a friendly-looking girl.
“Hello, Rosalie! It’s nice to see you.” I smile back easily, folding my paper and putting it aside, and I gesture for her to sit. She smiles brightly and flops down in front of me.
“I’ve missed you on the sixty-fifth; you were my ideal boss.” She grins again, her smile overtaking her face beautifully, and for the first time, I realize just how much I’ve missed her. I never really gave the idea much thought when we worked together, but seeing her now, I realize she used to ease my stresses and organize the finer details, leaving me free to be brilliant. My secret weapon. But above all, she always had a smile for me, and I knew she was my backup, someone I could always count on. With her, I never felt like I was doing it alone.
“I miss you too. I miss your hot chocolates a lot.” I laugh, being genuine with her, probably for the first time.
“You seem different now; I’m sorry if that’s rude.” She lowers her lashes. “It’s just, I’ve seen you at a distance a couple of times and, I don’t know, it’s like there’s something different.” A hint of blush creeps up her cheek.
“I feel different, Rosalie; it’s not rude. I guess I’m the talk of the office, right?” I sip my tea and raise an eyebrow. Inevitably, they’re all talking about the PA who was sent away only to be sent back again a month later.
“A bit. There’s so much gossip about why you left.” She blushes fully this time, averting her eyes to the paper on the table.
“Ignore the gossip; it’ll blow over soon enough,” I reply so calmly I surprise myself. The gossip has been running thick, but not one ounce of truth has made it out there. Rosalie’s never been one to push for information regarding Jake, and I wonder how much she picked up on and how much she guessed.
“He misses you, you know.” She watches me intently, and I freeze with my cup mid-air and shake my head, carefully placing the cup down.
“He was the one who chose to send me elsewhere, Rosalie. Jake and I …,” I sigh, “We reached a place in our relationship that wasn’t working anymore.” I avoid her eyes for a moment.
“I get that; I could see it happening. It’s just … since you’ve been gone, he’s not much fun to work for anymore.” Her cheeks glow still, revealing her discomfort, and she looks away quickly.
“He’ll get over it, I’m sure. That’s what Jake does best.” I tap my nails on the tabletop, trying to end this line of conversation, squirming as my heartache grows stronger.
“Are you leaving?” she squeaks, sitting straight in a flash, alerting me to where she’s looking; she’s noticed my notes on the pad beside me … the European PA job. I mustn’t have folded it away as discreetly as I thought.
Uh-oh. Smooth move, Emma!
“Thinking about it.” I cut in smoothly, flipping the pad over. I don’t know why I care about her knowing. Everyone will find out soon enough if I hand my resignation in. I’m sure even that would make it to the sixty-fifth floor in a hurry.
“I know things went south upstairs, but I always believed you’d come back … that whatever happened with you and Jake, it’d blow over. He misses you, regardless of what you say. You were both such a perfect fit; it’s awful to see you drifting apart.” Her face is so earnest it quells my urge to snort; instead, I shake my head sadly as a familiar lump in my throat resurfaces.
“It’s complicated. I really doubt he misses me at all; we wanted different things. This is for the best. I know that’s not an explanation, but trust me.” It’s the only one I can come up with.
“Men are complicated, but I know one thing … men in bad moods? Angry, shouty men like Jake has been for the last few weeks? They are usually angry and shouty because they’re hurting in some way. It started the day you left, and he’s only gotten worse. Take from that what you will.” Her pointed expression and raised eyebrow make my insides droop.
I look at the table, knowing full well his recent mood has nothing to do with me. He came home with Marissa in tow and the knowledge that he would be a father. In a moment of weakness, his ex-girlfriend-turned-drunken-one-night-stand made sure of that. No wonder he’s gone off the scale with his moods. His life has always been perfectly uncomplicated, with no real ties or relationship commitments. Marissa dropping that bombshell on him upended everything that made him happy. Jake isn’t missing me; Jake is missing the life he had before he got a girl pregnant.
I cast back to a picture of one of his petty glares in my mind, making me smile for a moment. Even mad or pissed, somehow, he was too beautiful for words.
“Jake has a lot going on, Rosalie; I’m not even a factor in his moods. Trust me,” I smile tightly as she stands. She lightly squeezes my hand on the table and straightens her jacket, picking up her paper cup of coffee.
“I need to head back; he’ll probably yell at me again if I'm late. It’s been nice to see you, Emma. I mean really, really, nice.” She gives me a killer smile, and it melts me. My reaction is almost spontaneous. Without thinking, I jump up and hug her. Something inside tells me this is a goodbye hug. After a moment of shock, she hesitantly hugs me back and then pulls away.
“You really are so different; I like it.” She turns on her heel, grinning and leaving me with a wave. With a strange feeling of longing as she goes, I watch her walk off between the milling people until she’s out of sight. She represents everything I had: the office, her, the job with Jake, my friendship with him, and a whole different world. Saying goodbye to her represents how I’m feeling now.
It’s time to move on with my life.
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